Portals to Maestosia

Chapter 7: Drums, Pots, and Pans

I had never seen my brother happier than the moment he had raised enough money to buy a drum set. And no, not a fake, childish one for babies. A REAL drum set. We couldn't believe it. Today would be the day we could work towards being famous. 

My older brother had wanted to play the drums since he was my age. My parents thought it was simply a phase that he would grow out of, but every year at Christmas, he would continue to beg and pester our parents to buy him a drum set. They finally promised us that we could have it if we could pay for half of it. I only wanted the drums so that I could fool around with them, but my brother was dead serious about becoming a professional musician. So I pitched in, helping him do little chores around the house and around the small neighbourhood to raise whatever we could. After a few months of hard work, he finally scraped together the total that he needed. And I will never forget the day that he did.

He shook me awake, the boy who usually struggled to get up any later than 10 am wearing a fresh, million-dollar smile at only 6. 

"Come on, Holly, wake up! We're going to buy the drums today. Maybe next year we'll save up again and we can buy you an electric guitar, huh?" he laughed, doing his best, wildest impression of an air guitar performance. "We're going to be totally famous one day. What do you want our band name today? It HAS to be something cool. Maybe something like, the Fiery Foxes of-"

"Yeah, yeah," I mumbled, dragging myself out of bed and into the bathroom connected to our room as strands of my sweaty black hair stuck to my forehead. "You promised me we would go to the creek today. Mom and Dad won't be up for another few hours, so... we won't be going to the music store for like, another million years." 

He groaned, knowing that I was right. Why did our parents always have to sleep in on the exciting days where we so desperately felt the need to get up early? 

"I guess. Hey, maybe we'll see that monster toad again. Or that oak tree that my best friend and I carved our names into in first grade. I've been looking for that stupid tree for two years now. Maybe someone cut it down."

"I hope not," I finally chimed in after spitting out my toothpaste. "I think I remember carving an 'H' in the tree too."

After grabbing two granola bars and leaving behind a quick, messy note, my brother and I slipped on our sneakers, ran out the door and jumped onto our bikes, rushing past the main housing area of town and into the forest. I still rode a three-wheeled bike because I still couldn't figure out how to balance on an adult one, but my brother was more athletic and basically an expert at doing so. We eventually had to walk our bikes instead of ride them when we reached the rocky areas, but finally found ourselves beside a bubbling creek. 

I sat down, taking off my socks to cool my feet of the heat of the sweltering summer morning by swishing them back and forth in the rushing water. Meanwhile, my brother inspected every tree in the area, looking for the tiny engravings we had made so long ago. I had no idea why we was so set on finding them, but he refused to give up, even after he had searched every tree in the entire forest. After about half an hour of peaceful silence, I heard him call my name in the distance.

"Holly! I found it. Look. A 'B,' and an 'H,' and a- wow, whoever carved this letter has awful handwriting. Wait a minute... that's an 'N.'" he whispered, his face only an inch away from the tree as his scrutinizing expression carefully inspected its every last centimetre. Meanwhile, I climbed a tree a few feet away by hoisting myself onto its many thick branches, amazed at how much I could see when I reached the top. I looked down to watch my brother when I got bored of staring at the landscape. He was chuckling to himself. I think he and his friend had engraved a bunch of inside jokes on the tree, too. His green eyes were bright with happiness when he looked back on his memories. I was glad to see him happy, too. The wind picked up and rustled the leaves, along with his thick blond hair.